University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Gengis, Octar, Osman, on one side. Idamè, Zamti, on the other, Guards.
Gengis.
Speak! are my sovereign commands obey'd?
Hast thou resign'd the Son o'th' Emperor?

Zamti.
I have fulfill'd my duty: it is done.

Gengis.
You know that I can punish fraud and insolence;
You know that nothing can escape my rage;
That if the Royal Infant you've conceal'd,
Spite of your artifice he'll soon be found,
And death alone shall answer for your crime.
[To his guards.
But I'll believe you: Go, and seize the child
This slave has render'd up a sacrifice.
Kill him.

Zamti.
Unhappy father!

Idamè.
Stay, Barbarians!
Ah! my good Lord, is this then your compassion,
And is it thus a Conqu'ror keeps his word?

Gengis.
Is't thus I am abused, and fool'd by slaves?
It is too much: hear now my last resolve.
Tell me this moment what this infant is,
Inform me the whole truth, or else he dies.

Idamè.
My son prevails; and if this sad confession
Which nature tears from my afflicted soul
Appears a new offence; and if for blood
Your soul still thirsts, strike here: for worse than death
Already racks my breast. Strike here, but save,
O save the generous the noble Zamti!
It is too true that our most Royal Master,
Who, but for Gengis, might have still surviv'd,
Committed to our care that sacred charge,
Honour'd by all but thee. Too many horrors
Follow'd your victory, too much, alas!
Has savage cruelty eclips'd your fame.
So many innocents all plung'd in blood,
The Emp'ror and his Queen, and five sons slain,
This mighty Empire by the sword laid waste,—
Could not so much of carnage glut your rage?
A stern barbarian came to ask the child,
That dearest pledge committed to our care,
Son of so many kings, our only hope.
My husband, at this cruel order, still retain'd
His faith inviolate, nor swerv'd from duty.
He gave up his own son. His tortur'd soul
The agonies of nature shook in vain;
In vain affection pleaded for a son.
You never should have known this fatal secret;
I should have more admir'd his noble firmness;
I should have copied it: But I'm a mother.
My soul could not sustain the cruel conflict,
And for a sacrifice resign my son.
Alas! my grief and violent despair
Too plainly spoke the weakness of a mother.
There stands the hapless father of the child,
Whose virtues were his only crimes. O spare
The babe, whose innocence could ne'er offend,
And spare the father, whose offence was virtue.
Me, punish me; who have at once betray'd
My husband and my king. O noble Zamti,
Thrice worthy all my love and admiration,
Forgive the weakness of maternal love.
If you die, so will I. At least forgive
That I from slaughter have preserv'd your son.

Zamti.
I forgive all: no more will I complain:
For my King's Son I have no more to fear.
He's plac'd in safety.

Gengis.
Traitor, slave, he is not.
Or bring him, villain, or your abject life
Shall answer for your crime.

Zamti.
My crime? it were
Indeed a crime, if I obey'd these orders.
The sov'reign voice of my right noble Masters
Speaks from the grave more loud than thy command.
You are my conqueror, but not my King.
If I ow'd you a subject's faith, to you
I would be faithful. Take my life, but still
Respect my zeal. I gave you up my son;
I could resign my dearest child a victim:
Can you then think I tremble for my life?

Gengis.
Away with him.

Idamè.
O, hear me!—

Gengis.
Drag him hence.

Idamè.
On me, on me vent all your rage. O Heav'n!
Could I have thought that by your cruel hand
I e'er should lose a King, a Son, and Husband?
What! will soft pity never touch your soul?

Gengis.
Go, follow him to whom your fate has bound you:
Follow your husband. Tears shall never move me,
Nor keen reproaches melt me to compassion.

Idamè.
This I foresaw: now all my hopes are flown.

Gengis.
No, Idamè: if in my own despight
Pity again should enter my weak heart,
You know the wrongs which must be satisfied.